Prince of Thieves
by Sleepy Lotus
Summary: What if Sethos had a son, a son as adept at the trade of tomb robbing as he? Lawrence is in Luxor for the treasure, but has his eye on Nefret as well. In him Ramses finds a rival of infuriating proportions. Nefret/Ramses/Lawrence
1. Chapter 1

**Prince of Thieves**

**By: Sleepy Lotus**

What if Sethos had a son, a son as adept at the trade of tomb robbing as he? Lawrence is there for the treasure, but has his eye on Nefret as well. In him Ramses finds a rival of infuriating proportions on his hands. Nefret/Ramses/Lawrence

**Manuscript H: **

Like all strays, or at least strays as Ramses' mother would care to categorize them, this one came to the Emerson family in a strange twist of fate. Call Ramses suspicious. A pessimist. All too willing to believe in the darker side of man's intentions. All too unwilling to hold faith in the chance of serendipitous fate.

He didn't like him.

Not one bit.

It all started with a child, a street urchin, on the streets of Cairo. The little nit picked the wrong pocket, got caught, by the white gloved hand of an officer of the Egyptian army. A certain acquaintance and blood relation of the family's, Percival Peabody. Like all upstanding gentlemen, he was short of temper and patience with the "native element", especially the thieving-for-necessity children of the street.

The spectacle of his wrath drew nearly the whole lunch crowd of Shepheards to the edge of the terrace. Percy, always one for fair odds in a fight, gripped the child's arm and brandished a riding crop. Ramses made ready to leap the balcony, blood high as ever. But before the child could receive a thrashing, someone stepped in, snatched the crop right out of Percy's hand from behind.

"What the devil!" spat my cousin.

In the confusion the child twisted away, disappearing into the teeming crowd of the street, ducking beneath a camel's legs and clearing a pile of refuse to his freedom. "Care to pick on someone your own size?" growled the newcomer, striking at Percy's legs with the crop.

"How dare you!" Before Percy could move forward he was struck again.

"Horses don't like it," said the man coldly. "Neither do children."

Thirsty to witness a fight, the crowd stayed glued to the scene. But it was Nefret who brought an end to the bravado. "Percival Peabody, your behavior is deplorable, as usual. A child, really. Haven't you anything better to do?"

Ramses suspected it was not solely Nefret's scolding, but his mother's steely gaze as well that held dear Percy in check. "I beg your pardon, madam," said my cousin, in his most thick of bootlicking tones. "I didn't realize theives were to get off so easily these days."

Like a true snake he slithered away in retreat, even leaving the riding crop in the hands of the child's rescuer. At a seeming loss for what to do with the offensive article, the man tossed it away. It was with a great bit of jealousy Ramses watched Nefret extend her hand to shake, as a man would. He watched the introductions, though executed in softer voices, he could not hear exact words. The devil said something though that charmed both Nefret and his mother, because next he knew, Nefret was upon his arm, escorting him to the family's favored table. Because Ramses' mother raised him to do so, and in part just for Nefret, he stood to greet his family and their newfound guest. "Ramses, meet Lawrence Fairchilde. Would you mind if he joined us for tea?"

"Of course not, mother."

He did, naturally.

Like two alpha males, the young men sniffed each other out, sized each other up. Lawrence was a man of trim build, near exact Ramses' height with a mop of sandy blond hair and blue eyes that rivaled the sapphire quality of his fathers.

"Well done," he acknowledged, begrudgingly. "Had I made it down in time, I might not have been able to resist giving the bastard the thrashing he deserved. Excuse me, mother."

"Not at all, Ramses," sighed his mother in agreement of sentiments.

With a smile, Lawrence admitted, "It was difficult not to. You know him?"

"Unfortunately," answered mother, we share a blood line with officer Peabody."

"I see. Well, that _is_ unfortunate."

"So what brings you to Egypt, Mr. Fairchilde? I dare say, we are familiar with most of the regulars, so forgive me for assuming you have just arrived recently?"

"You're not exactly incorrect. I have been here before, my father was a military man and dragged me all across Egypt and the middle east, along with India and a bit of China. Kenya too. You know, how we British do love a good divide and conquer."

Ramses noticed with some interest that this remark upon queen and country's imperialist exploits was said with quite the sneer. "I take it you are not a supporter of her majesty's far reaching empire then?"

"Perhaps I stand on shaky ground, Mrs. Emerson, but as you asked, you must forgive me for telling the absolute truth. In Calcutta and Delhi there are clubs with signs reading _NO dogs or Indians_. It's the same here, and I think its condescending rubbish. It's a small wonder they don't rise up and massacre us all, for the way they're treated, except that they're simply a better people than we are."

To Ramses' chagrin, mother nodded approvingly. He, however, retained his suspicious nature, questioning motives of the fellow, for it wouldn't be unheard of to fabricate such remarks based on the subject, though to what ends he couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he wasn't being fair. Perhaps what truly rankled him was the way Nefret hadn't taken her eyes off the chap even once since his strange and heroic arrival into their circle. Her eyes glimmered with cornflower blue amusement at his seditious remarks, so rare to hear from someone outside our own family circle.

"I'm afraid I have yet to truly answer your question though, Madam, I'm here on Egyptological business. I've just finished my courses at Oxford on the subject, and did a bit of a stint under Budge at the British Museum. But I have a handkering to get my hands dirty in the field, as it were. Though for now it seems they'll just have to settle for the dust of the Cairo Museum here."

Eyes alight, Nefret practically purred, "And what have you to say about the state of the Cairo museum?"

A burst of malicious laughter escaped Lawrence's lips.

"It is in a bloody awful state, isn't it? Excuse my language, Madam, but its deplorable. Everything's a jumble, nothing is properly catalogued. Beautiful papyri, seeming full texts of the book of the dead, just rotting away in musty boxes. Maspero--"

"What's Maspero done now?" bellowed a voice from just behind Lawrence. Ramses noticed the newcomer did not jump or flinch, as most new to their circle certainly would at the sound of one of the Father of Curses' famed outbursts of temper.

"Do lower your voice, Emerson," said Amelia with a glimmer of affection in her eyes, genially pouring him a cup of tea.

"Father," said Nefret sweetly, clasping his paw of a hand. "This is Lawrence Fairchilde. He's been charged with the Herculean task of cleaning up the Cairo museum."

Lawrence scoffed with a self deriding grin. "Hercules had it easy, all he had to do was divert a river to wash all the muck away. The contents of the museum will take years to properly sort and catalogue. If Maspero will even allow it. Is all archeology rife with such politics?"

"I fear so, dear," said Mother with a tragic aire. "So make as many friends as possible in your beginning time here."

"Yes Madam. It seems I'm already off to a good start." Draining his tea, Lawrence apologized, "It's been lovely meeting you all, but I'm afraid I have to get back. We'll see if your Percival doesn't have half the Egyptian army harassing me in the next few hours, eh?"

He shook Ramses and Emerson's hands, and kissed those of mother and Nefret in what Ramses thought to be an overly chivalrous gesture, surely orchestrated with more designs on Nefret's person. Lawrence was not at all out of ear range when Emerson demanded, "Who the devil was that?"

"We should invite him to our dig!" exclaimed Nefret excitedly. We can always use another able pair of hands, and it would be an excellent opportunity for him to learn from the finest archeologist in our age, or any other!"

Ramses winced at Nefret's enthusiastic description of his hands. It appeared all the females at the table were effectively taken by the lad. And so it was with much relief that father turned to ask him, "And what do _you_ think of this Fairchilde, my boy?"

"I haven't yet formed an opinion, sir. His words seem in the right place on archeology. His actions have yet to prove their merit."

It was a smooth lie on Ramses' part. He'd already quite made up his mind, at seeing the way Nefret's eyes gleamed as she schemed to bring him on the dig.

He didn't like him one bit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Manuscript H: Continued…**

The return of this mysterious Lawrence seemed all but inevitable. Mother would have called it premonition. Ramses preferred deduction. Either way, the return of their Lawrence Fairchilde seemed an inevitability. Indeed it was, and it seemed it took no time at all for him to worm his way into every aspect of the Emerson's lives Ramses would have preferred to keep him out of.

His attitude on archeology and general philosophy ingratiated him to Father, upon finding both his parents deceased, supposedly, Mother of course decided to adopt him, with the maternal streak she claimed not to possess. Ramses eventually found himself sharing the dahabeeyah with him, in David's absence for the season. But what grated upon Ramses the most was of course his deepest secret, the love he held nearest and dearest to his heart: Nefret.

Of all his new admirers, she held him in the highest esteem, the bastard. Ramses would hear her throaty laughter from across the dig, and knew they were laughing about something or other. An obscene bit of ostraca, or something the professor did. Yes, he'd definitely made up his mind about the chap. Able bodied and charming, alarmingly intelligent and quick to learn.

Ramses positively hated him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Letter Collection B**:

My dearest Lia, I'm certain I will never gather the courage to send this to you. All the same, just imagining corresponding with you about it sets my mind at ease. I've had the strangest feelings as of late, and Lia, I don't know what to do? First, I must tell you of the newest edition to our party here, for all good stories must set a background. He came to us rather unexpectedly, as most of our strays do. After witnessing a gallant act of him rescuing a small child from the wrath of our loathed cousin Percy, we invited him to tea, and hit it off from there. He is an Egyptologist, turns out, fresh off the boat.

He's been working here, in Luxor with us for quite some time now, and is becoming nearly as invaluable to father as Ramses in his intellect and instinct for archeological matters. Aside from that, well--I'll be frank, Lia, I like him _quite_ a lot. And this is where the story becomes terribly gray.

He's quite the gentleman, Lia darling. The dashing sort, unruly blond hair, and eyes so blue as to make a sapphire jealous with rage! Frame for frame, he's the same size as Ramses, and just as fit. And Ramses--oh Lia, this is where my confusion reaches exponential heights!

When we three are together, Lia, well I get the strangest feeling that the boys are fighting over me! I know, I have a horrible ego to think such a thing, as though I am ever lacking in male attention--not that it hardly ever interests me--but Ramses gets this look in his eyes when Lawrence is around me, the stone pharaoh face, plus something else. it's the face of a pharaoh who is about to order his worst enemy to the death!

And Ramses, dear boy--only here in these pages, only to you, Lia, will I ever admit, that Ramses is _no_ _longer_ a boy. I suddenly am incapable of seeing him as such, and it drives me mad! The other day there was a kitten--I know, of all the damned things, a baby cat! Trapped up on the rocks near the tomb we're excavating. I was certain I could get it down, so I started up the hill, blazing a trail as I always do. But after a while of trying to climb up I looked down, and it was so high!

I'm afraid I lost my nerve (and my balance!) and went tumbling down the hill like Jill with her pail. (I'm fine dear, don't worry!) Like the gallants they are, both Ramses and Lawrence ran to me, crumpled like a rag doll in the dirt. I was mostly just phased, but it must have looked a terrible fall! Lawrence made to pick me up, and Ramses nearly _**snarled**_, "_Don't touch her."_

Once he was sure I hadn't brained myself, he scooped me up into his arms (what strong arms! I think only his own father can bust him!) and carried me straight to Risha. Father of course was worried sick, shouting at everyone from me to Lawrence to the kitten _still _stuck up on the rocks. Efficient as the mail, he ordered, (actually ordered!) father to hand me up to him, did one of those astoundingly seamless leaps onto Risha's back, and took me into his arms. I fit into his embrace, snug as child, safe against the wall of muscle that is his torso.

Mother was at the house, and he intended to take me to her at once. "I'm sorry Ramses, I thought I could get it," I murmured against the column of his neck. And he--Lia, he kissed my forehead in a moment so unguarded, so beautifully touching, I could have screamed.

"Had I done such a fool thing, you would have skewered me," he joked, trying to cheer me up as we trotted away.

"Had you done such a thing, you would have at least rescued the damn fool thing."

He laughed, and it was a low rumble, deep in his chest. I felt it as I was leaning against him so heavily, and the feeling still haunts me, Lia. I can't get it out of my head, the way he felt against me! The way he held me, even the way he kissed me, has been burned upon my brain! I'd taken quite a fall, I could have been seeing things, but oh Lia, I wasn't seeing things! I just don't quite know yet what they were.

And so now I sit here, waiting, wondering if I will ever find out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Manuscript H:**

It was his nature to seek out the truth, to wait for facts to make his judgments. And so as Lawrence revealed more and more about himself to the Emerson family, the less and less Ramses believed.

One thing was for certain. The man's knowledge of antiquities was infallible, and he spoke the rapid fire Arabic of the Cairene natives nearly as well as they. It seemed far fetched to Ramses, that his language skills could be so good, having been dragged across the British Empire by an officer father. A conveniently deceased father, and the mother besides.

It was in the interest of drumming up some real information that dressed as Ali the Rat, Ramses paid El Garbi a visit. Unfortunately the Nubian transvestite was mum, either because

a) Lawrence truly was who he claimed, or

B) El Gharbi feared whomever protected him. Only a few people came to mind for Ramses as such a description, and none boded well.

He added up the facts. Lawrence certainly ported himself as a gentleman. Charming snake, had both mother and Nefret wrapped around his finger. Even father was smitten in his own way, something that stabbed Ramses to no end. It smacked of betrayal, though he knew his father would never mean it as such. Good help was so hard to find, after all.

Shaking his head of the emotional cloud, Ramses went on with the list in his head. He spoke Arabic like a street devil. Could spot a fake from a mile away. Knew entirely too much about Egyptology to be a product of Oxford alone, much less Budge's tutoring. Deuced clever bugger.

All this added up, and smacked of a certain criminal they knew on all too-familiar terms. A certain arch-nemesis of his father's, a certain smitten admirer of his mother's. Dear God, surely it couldn't be.

But what if it was?

What if Lawrence was a young protégé of Sethos and had been sent to infiltrate their very ranks?

My God, Nefret, though Ramses. What if his designs on Nefret went far darker than merely wooing her? What if he was after the secret of the lost Oasis? Ramses felt a sudden urge to check on her at the house, but had to change out of Ali's garb first. No one needed to know of his tramping about at night.

It was as Ramses slinked around the Dahabeeyah in the dark that he was met with a deuced unpleasant surprise. A blow to the back of the neck as he crossed the carpet of the common area put his knees out from under him. However, it did not take long for he to do the same to his assailant, and they were soon locked in a tussle upon the floor. Both parties landed winding blows, before Ramses realized it was Lawrence whom he combated.

"Lawrence, you damn fool, its me, Ramses!"

Taken aback by the familiar voice coming from such a ruffian, Lawrence immediately paused in his efforts. "Ramses, what the devil? Why are you dolled up as a street rat? You smell like some of Cairo's finest trash piles!"

He allowed himself to sit back on the carpet, eyebrows raised, but an intrigued smile suddenly curling his lips.

"I was out," Ramses said illusively. "I didn't hear you. Not many people can sneak up on me," he reluctantly admitted, adding another dubious quality to Lawrence's list of incriminations.

"I was certain you were a thief. Look at you, how could I not? Where did you learn to disguise yourself like this?"

"An acquaintance of considerable skill," Ranses answered illusively. Lawrence's infuriating smile turned to something of a knowing smirk. To Ramses, it seemed to indicate a certain knowledge of which he couldn't possibly claim.

That is, if he truly was who he claimed to be.

"And where were _you_?" asked Ramses, certain the dahabeeyah had been empty when he first boarded. That is, unless Lawrence had been lying in wait for him in the dark.

It didn't seem likely.

"Miss Forth and I were out to dine, I just dropped her off at the house." There was a glimmer of satisfaction in Lawrence's eyes, and at that moment Ramses hated every fiber of his being. It evoked such a reaction as to make him tighten the grip on his dagger in his belt, white knuckled, just for a moment. This too did not go unnoticed by Lawrence, and Ramses watched him tense on instinct, ready to react to a bared blade if need be.

Where does an Oxford boy learn how to fight like that, Ramses wondered? Lawrence Fairchilde, who are you really? Ramses stood, offered Lawrence a hand up. In that grip, the lines of their jaws clenched, something primal glinted in their eyes in the moonlight. Both men knew the challenge was on. Ramses knew already he would give anything for Nefret, even his life. What of his opponent?

Time would tell, Ramses had a sudden feeling.

_Not_ a premonition. Deduction.

Pure and simple deduction.


	5. Chapter 5

**Letter Collection B:**

Oh Lia, how I wish you were here! Ah, but then I don't, for I would surely have to tell you in person what I've done. This is much better, in a letter to never be sent. In my last correspondence I gushed on Ramses' sudden (not so sudden, but seemingly sudden to me) transformation in my eyes from a boy to a man. So you will surely think me a crazy woman indeed, for this letter I must devote to telling of Lawrence.

He invited me to dine in town one night, last night, and I accepted eagerly. I always enjoy getting this man to myself, fascinating character that he is. He's been so far, seen so much! For such a young man. The end of supper found us, neither willing to go back just yet.

Lawrence suggested, timidly, for not wanting to be though a cad, that we go see the temples in the moonlight. Even more willing than usual to tell propriety to go to the devil, I agreed to that too.

"Can you imagine?" he whispered in my ear, in the moonlit ruins of the temple of Isis. "The life that once breathed through these walls? The songs and dances and rituals of the high priestess and her maidens.

Oh Lia, but I could! I longed so much then to show him, to sing the sacred songs, dance the dances I knew I could still execute with a flawless precision! I turned to him with eyes surely full of longing to share a piece of myself, my strange past, with this man who could appreciate it.

His hand reached up to caress my skin, and Lia, I positively melted! I've kissed men before, as experiments, as acts of kindness, pity even, but never had I _wanted_ another's lips on my own so terribly, as that moment. But he was such a gentleman, so much the opposite of a cad that I could have screamed!

But he held me as one does a precious treasure, and leaned down so slow, giving me every opportunity to pull away, slap him, call him a name, anything I wished. But I wished for him to kiss me, and he did. I can still taste him, and the way those full soft lips slid across my own.

It was heaven, or the closest thing to it I've yet encountered on this earth. He pulled me close, tangled his hands in my hair, leaving us both breathless when we rose to surface for air. He stirred the most unladylike urges in me, Lia, things I've only vaguely dreamed of doing with another man, and would surely have no true knowledge of even how to go about it. But standing there with Lawrence, clinging to him like a trembling leaf, I wanted to explore this new territory anyway. But then, (voice shaky as my own!) he suggested, "Perhaps it would be best I see you home, before you render me completely without manners."

I wanted to say to hell with manners.

But I agreed, and he dropped me off at the house. I went straight to bed, with the most unfulfilled feeling. When I closed my eyes, I thought both of Lawrence's kisses, and the muscled warmth of Ramses behind me in the saddle. Thoughts of the two of them plagued me until I finally found some rest in a dream filled sleep. I can't tell you what I dreamed, Lia dear. Even in a letter, I never intend to send you, it would be far too…Far too _vivid_ to write down.


	6. Chapter 6

**Manuscript H:**

It was the find of the century, or at least a decade. Another princesses' tomb, filled floor to ceiling with precious objects. Furniture, books, sculpture, jewelry, and of course, to Ramses' intense chagrin, it was essentially Lawrence's find. They'd been clearing a seemingly already cleaned out tomb, copying paintings, diagramming--L found a side chamber, and he doggedly insisted upon pursuing it. The man struck gold, quite literally--and true to nature, Ramses still felt certain he was up to something.

He insisted he and Lawrence share guard shifts, before the tomb could be properly cleared out, but it was getting old without having a stitch of proof. Lawrence knew Ramses suspected him of something. Knew he didn't quite trust him the way the others seemed to.

In desperate need of this, for the sake of the treasure and his own peace of mind, Ramses now trailed Lawrence through the darkened streets of Luxor. Not as Ali, that costume had been compromised to him, but as a different but equally as repulsive character. One thing _could_ be said of the lad, he was quick on his feet.

Ramses only barely kept him in sight, struggled to not be discovered. In a mad turn for genius, Lawrence ducked into the _suk_, sensing that he was being followed. He ducked into a crowd, weaved in and out of evening shoppers, behind a camel, and into a shop. Ramses patiently waited for him to exit, not wanting to get close enough to follow him inside.

Minutes passed. Too long. An idea struck him, and Ramses darted to the back alley behind the shop. But only an old man toddled down the narrow street, leaning heavily upon a crutch. Ramses searched in vain, but realized with an oath he'd been given the slip.

Suddenly in a foul temper, he contemplated waiting up for Lawrence in the dahabeeyah, or sticking around for tea in a haunt or two to drum up some tidbits. Hoping to not have wasted the entire evening, he opted for the latter.

The night slipped away in various conversations, but nothing fruitful, and Ramses hurried back to the dahabeeyah, hoping Lawrence didn't beat him home. But it was much to his chagrin as he approached that he found a candle burning in Lawrence's room. Not wishing to compromise yet another useful disguise, he decided to sneak into his parents house to wash. The family seemed to be at peace in the living room, mother and Nefret reading, Father growling over an article. Soundless as his namesake, the brother of demons slipped into a dark washroom to remove the costume.

It was a very surprised Nefret who walked in on Ramses bare to the waist, with his head immersed in the basin, dissolving the glue of a particularly sinister pair of bushy eyebrows. Immediately she shut the door. "Ramses, my boy, what are you up to now?"

"I was…prowling the _suks_, for any plans of theiving our latest find…Lawrence's latest find." The last came growled from behind clenched teeth.

Nefret let it go, all too aware of the difficulties Lawrence's presence was putting Ramses through, even though he never confided it to her. Of course, why would he? "Well, any luck?" she prodded, a bit saddened to be left out of the fun. She always had so much _fun_, when he included her.

"Not really." Ramses wiped his face off with a towel.

"And why not clean up at the dahabeeyah, instead of here, where mother could catch you?"

"Ah…complications," muttered Ramses, bundling up his disguise beneath his arm. "Excuse me, Nefret, I should be getting back."

"You came back here because Lawrence is there. Do you suspect him of something?"

"Do _you_?" Ramses countered evasively. He tried to step past, but Nefret's hand upon his arm burned him like fire, and he suddenly found himself incapable of movement.

"What do you know, Ramses? Tell me, if there's something, please!"

"I have no proof, Nefret."

"But a premonition?"

"Intuition, I should rather call it. Something about this doesn't add up. Something about _him_. Too good to be true, Far too good to have come straight from Oxford and a museum. And his street Arabic is impeccable."

"You think he's had previous experience?"

"In something."

"Like what?"

"Deception."

"You think he's a thief?" Nefret's voice came surprised and shrill with excitement, and Ramses clamped his hand over her mouth to shush her.

"Not so loud, will you?"

"Sorry," she whispered against his hand. He could still feel where her lips had touched his skin, it tingled like a shock.

"I know this seems fantastic, but what if it were true? Who would have such knowledgeable men at his disposal to plant in our midsts?"

"You don't possibly mean…"

"What if?"

"The _master_ _criminal_?"

Ramses could tell that it took all Nefret's self control not to shout out the possibility in her excitement, she was so intrigued by the man.

"The master criminal sends his young protégé to win us over. The orphan line was to get mother, his disdain for everything bumbled by Maspero, father. And you--well, we both know he's charmed you quite...thoroughly."

Nefret blushed, and even that small incrimination of her confused feeling set Ramses' blood to secretly boil. "Not as _thoroughly _as you think," she quickly defended. "But what of you, my boy? I don't think he counted on you," Nefret added with a bewitching smile.,

"So you don't think I'm completely out of my head?" asked Ramses, betraying his surprise. He'd expected her to admonish him for jumping at shadows, or worse, accusing Lawrence out of jealousy. It wouldn't even have been unfounded.

Nefret pursed her lips. "Not at all," she answered honestly. "It was strange, the way he came to us, in an act of valor our family would undoubtedly approve of. One needn't dig too deep to know of our animosity with Percy, and sympathy with the Egyptians. I…I do hope you're wrong. But if you're right, well, this could be a very serious matter."

Ramses nodded. "Thank you for that. But unfortunately, I need proof, of something, anything."

"Leave it to me, my boy. Maybe I grill him a little under pressure, he'll slip an inconsistency in his story." Ramses was loathe to think on what kind of "pressure" Nefret would dream up, but it wasn't a bad idea.

"Alright. See what you can do, and I'll keep working on my end." And like a djinn in the night, Ramses slipped out the window from whence he'd entered, just as mother entered the room.

"Nefret? Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, just the cat, mother. He went out the window though." Ramses heard, plastered to the wall beneath the window.


	7. Chapter 7

**Manuscript S**: _It is my pleasure as editor to introduce a new dimension to these journals, an account of events recorded by the most obscure and controversial of the Emerson clan. _

My son paced the room of one of our many Cairo safe houses, coiled taut as a tiger in a cage. He cut a dashing figure, and it has been with a certain unexpected pleasure that I have watched him grow into the man he has become today. Where he is nearly the same build as his cousin, Ramses, it is those blazing blue eyes, so reminiscent of my brother's own, that truly betray our peculiar, if not extramarital, family ties.

"This discovery has proved to be richer than we ever fathomed," Lawrence exclaimed. "Your tip from Yussuf proved to be worth more than his weight in gold. It all almost seems too easy, to make off with it all."

"Well, we haven't yet, my boy."

"Oh, but we will. We _will_, and revel in the spoils." His smile was fierce and mischievous, the rogue trickster shining through the well mannered Egyptologist shell he'd cultivated for this operation.

Yet, there was a distant look in his eyes that worried me. "Second thoughts? Reservations?"

"I think Ramses is on to me."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, perhaps not as surprised as Lawrence expected. That boy was deviously clever, a fine specimen of Emerson intellect. Of course, with that dear mother of his, how could he have been anything but?

"He nearly followed me here. Disguised as a street thug, but I'm certain it was him. I escaped myself from the back of the shop in raggy robes and a crutch. I know he watched me retreat, but the ol' boy has no idea the tricks in our respective bags run so similar in root."

"You think he will out you?"

"If he gains proof, yes."

"Then we must pull this off soon."

"Yes…"

Once again, that strange note of hesitance, so uncharacteristic of my son.

"What is it, my boy?"

"Once we pull this off, I will need to disappear from the Emerson's eyes. There will be no maintaining of innocence, not after its done."

"And this poses a problem why? Have you become so fond of the Emersons you truly wish they would adopt you?"

My comment came as an offhand jest, but the possibility stabbed a part of me I thought long disaffected.

Lawrence sighed, sensing the possible ire drifting beneath the derision in my tone. "Perhaps you will find me foolish, but I am fond of them all, truly. But it is the girl, Nefret, who I'm afraid poses the largest problem. I'm afraid---well, father, I've fallen quite in love with her! The thought of leaving her rips me to shreds inside, I don't quite know what to make of it!"

It was with some alarm I heard my son's decree. Not just for the substance of the declaration, but because I recognized the tone. I knew it well, and a similar unrequited love haunted me still to this day. "You are sure this is not just a passing fancy,?" I asked cautiously, certain I already knew the answer.

Lawrence sighed. "Quite. I've thought long and hard about it, and I would--I would even marry her, if she would have me."

"That is always the trouble, isn't it?" I mused. "If they would but have us. And what of her? Does she return your ardor?"

"She…" Lawrence turned his head. "The way she kisses me, I would like to think so, but Nefret is a passionate girl."

"So you're not sure." I did not mean to smirk, but I was not surprised in the least at the admission.

"No."

"And here, you haven't time to properly find out."

"It would seem not."

I sighed, for the thoughts that turned the cogs in my head would surely not endear me to Amelia. That is, should she ever find out of my involvement... And yet, that particular farce, the very source of my own personal demons of regret and longing, was one aspect of my life I didn't want my son's footsteps to follow. That moment, I knew what he must do, if he loved her desperately enough. Truly enough, deeply enough.

"You know, I failed to do it once, for I did not move my love quick enough from the scene of the crime, so to speak. I have replayed it countless times now, perfected the plot. But what are sons for, if not to repeat their father's mistakes, and perfect them?"

"Are you saying I should--"

"I can't help you directly with the planning, I've sworn an oath to Amelia that prevents me. However, whatever my resources are available to you--the villa in Constantinople, for instance…"

"Lawrence's well formed lips cracked in a joyous an youthful grin. "This keeps getting better and better, father. The heist of the century indeed!"

I quite agreed. Stealing treasure is one thing. But the very Light of Egypt, out from under the Father of Curses, Brother of Demons, and most formidably, the Sitt Hakim's nose?

It was certainly a plot worthy of such a clever thief as my son, and a prize worth many times more than her weight in gold.


	8. Chapter 8

**Letter Collection B:**

I was wandering by the room we dedicated to store the treasure, Dear Lia, when the most surprising sight waylaid me within the door. That is not to say the sight of Ramses at work at the desk seemed strange, but the way he want about it moved me in a peculiar way that evening. The sight of him with sleeves rolled up over those shapely forearms, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, mop of curls falling over his eyes fixed so intensely upon the artifact at hand he worked to catalogue…Lia, it felt so strange, yet I felt certain I'd never laid eyes on a man more handsome.

And there I was gaping like a fool in the doorway, when the lad looked up, caught me red handed! But if he had any inkling of the thoughts racing through my head, he politely side stepped them, as he always does with any star struck female. (Poor boy, he has to deal with it so often!) and greeted me with an unassuming, "Hello, Nefret."

We stood and stared at each other for quite some time, as though both tongue-tied for some unknown reason. Finally I entered the room, making like I'd intended to survey the treasure all along. "Quite an exquisite trove, isn't it?" I commented, absently stroking an armlet I found particularly attractive.

"Yes, indeed," Ramses agreed. He set down his pen and watched me with quiet eyes, as I made my survey about the room.

"But it's a funny thing" I mused. "A sad thing really. For all our knowledge, our educated guesses, about these things, we can never truly _know _their stories. The people who wore these jewels, and why. Did she like it, was it a favorite? A gift from a father, brother, lover? Did she die wearing it, or stash it away in a box somewhere, away from anyone's sight?"

Ramses gave a gentle smile as he thought on what I said. And so it was much to my surprise when he stood from his seat to cross the desk over to me. "And they will sit in a box somewhere when we're done with them, or in a case, being ogled but never touched, never used for their original purpose again. I imagine it's a sad life, for an object, to have once known the adoration and warmth of a beautiful woman then sit neglected for thousands of years." He picked up the bracelet and gently taking my arm, he clasped it upon my wrist. "Shall we give it one last hoorah?"

And I stood, stock still and complacent, as Ramses clasped some other pieces upon me, another bracelet, necklace, an anklet, and even a headdress. I smiled and stood quietly, and there was a silent laughter in our eyes when we exchanged glances, as though we were almost up to some forbidden mischief. And Lia, there is a certain terrible intimacy to placing jewelry upon a woman, isn't there? His hands were so gentle, so light, and careful--when he'd finished Ramses stood back to take in the effect of his handiwork, hands on his narrow hips.

"There seems something so perfectly natural about these upon you." he mused with an appraising eye.

"I suppose you can take a girl out of the holy mountain, but you can't take the holy mountain out of the girl," I laughed. I did feel entirely at home in such adornment, I had been wearing similar things since I was a child in the temple of Hathor.

Ramses let out a kind of sigh, and I knew he didn't exactly want to remove the jewelry, but knew we had to all the same (after all, it was several millenia older than us!) and so he reached around me to unclasp the collar, and his closeness nearly drove me mad!

The warmth, the column of his neck so near my face, I had a terrible urge to kiss him. And it was like this that Lawrence walked in on us, with a sort of smirk, as though he'd caught us doing something naughty. And in a way, I felt as though he had. "Giving the crown jewels a whirl?" he asked, taking a step into the room. Lawrence lifted my hand to the light, admiring the bracelet I too loved so well. I noticed Ramses eyes narrow at Lawrence's attentions, it would have been amusing if it wasn't so strange. If I wasn't the one in the middle of it all.

"We should have a replica of this made for you, my dear. Its almost as though thousands of years ago the artisan had this particular wrist in mind."

With a laugh I took back my hand, removing the rest of the jewelry myself. "All flattery, Lawrence. You're a _shameless_ flatterer."

"Quite the contrary. I'm completely honest, my dear. Wouldn't you agree, Ramses?"

He raised his eyebrows high on that pharaoh's brow of his, reluctant to endorse any sort of statement concerning Lawrence's honesty. "I agree," he finally ceded with a smile, returning to his seat behind his desk, "That you are as shameless as Nefret is beautiful."

"Ha! Well said, my boy," laughed Lawrence in a bout of uncharacteristic English bonhomerie. "And on that note, are you ready to go, Nefret?"

With an apologetic glance back at Ramses, I followed Lawrence out of the room. Though I was going with a mission in mind, to pursue the task set to me by Ramses himself, I felt a strange sense of betrayal, following Lawrence out. But like a good soldier, I signaled him a reluctant salute, and marched on to my fate. 

Ramses set me with a task, Lia, and I intended to carry it out! Yes, my intentions that evening certainly _began_ in the right direction, at least. The picture of Ramses with his head in the washbasin, emblazoned in my brain, shirt off, that lithe thin torso chiseled as stone--Lia, I suddenly understood why most women are putty in his hands, why they'll go to any lengths to please him! And gentleman that he is, he never takes advantage.

However, rascally as he is, Lawrence too is a man cut of a similar cloth. All through dinner I attempted to grill him with innocent though weighted questions, trying to find a hole in his story. The man is either telling the truth, or he sidestepped me beautifully. By the end of the evening I found myself all too willing to fall into his arms again. On our way home we paused to take in the swath of diamonds that is the desert sky at night, and Lawrence only allowed himself the gentlest of kisses upon my neck before pulling away with an exasperated sigh.

"Nefret its very difficult for me to behave myself around you," he admitted, gripping my shoulders with strong hands now callused from work on the dig. "You befuddle my senses, you make me feel mad!"

And so I couldn't help but ask, a bit exasperated myself, and because I truly yearned to know, "Then why is it you do behave so well?"

And with a laugh, that glorious, full throated laugh, he pulled me close, and said, "Perhaps sometime I won't."

Then he kissed me, long and slow, and I knew somehow I was betraying Ramses in a way, perhaps even the Professor and Aunt Amelia, and at that moment I didn't even care, Lia!

I couldn't even bring myself to care.


	9. Chapter 9

**Manuscript H: **

The bellow of alarm came at 6:30 in the morning, echoing through house, perhaps even jostling the pictures upon the wall. Ramses heard it as he made his way up the walk, to join his parents for breakfast. "What the devil!" and far worse rattled the very panes of the windows of the house.

Ramses crashed into the formidable form of his mother in their mad dash down the hall. Lawrence was not with Ramses, he had last guard shift of the room. It was with much horror that the entire household and then some stared on in horror at the content of the storage room. Or rather, the lack thereof, for the room stood completely, entirely, down to the very last bead, swiped clean.

Ramses was the first to notice that in fact not every member of the household stood pushing for a better view at the doorway. One crucial member stood missing, and with a horrible sense of dread gripping his heart, he went to wrench open her door. As he feared he would and hoped he wouldn't, Ramses found Nefret's room completely vacant. He stared on at the room with such concentration, willing Nefret to pop out from behind a curtain and shout, "Surprise!" that he barely heard his mother's decisive call to action,.

"Council of war, now!"

**~//~**

And so Ramses sat and pondered with bowed head, while Emerson paced and growled, and mother directed that breakfast be conducted as usual. No reason to deny the body of crucial nourishment in a time of emergency such as this, she proclaimed. It was at the breakfast table that Ramses confessed his long harbored suspicions, and cursed himself for not acting upon them sooner.

"Why didn't you say anything, my boy?" demanded his father.

"I had no proof, sir, and I couldn't well accuse the man of being associated with a master criminal without something of hard evidence."

"You truly think he is in league with Sethos?" The question from his mother came serious, yet not without that certain strange gleam in her eye she always gets at mention of the man.

"Doesn't this smack of him? Seamless and without a trace, right out from under our very noses?"

"Certainly, yet, both Emerson and I slept like the dead last night. I think Lawrence much have drugged our evening whiskey and soda."

"It's certainly possible."

"And what of Nefret? Surely she didn't…" Mother let the implication hang in the air, and Ramses groaned with the thought.

"Aided and absconded with the bastard? Not our Nefret, she would never do such a fool thing!" growled Emerson.

"Indeed, I agree," seconded Ramses. All of her things are there. I think she must have been drugged with the rest of you. Even I--I'm usually aware, when Lawrence comes and goes from the boat. I slept through it too."

"What the devil do you think he wants with Nefret? Surely not a ransom?"

Both Amelia and Ramses looked at Emerson as though he were a blind man, but it was Amelia who said, "We all knew he was fond of the girl. Perhaps this sort of…courtship runs in Sethos' organization?"

At the mention of _that_ episode Emerson growled, "When I get my hands on that boy, I will rip his spine out through his throat!"

Though he did not voice such sentiments aloud, Ramses felt exactly the same way. And he hoped he would be able to track down the rapscallion soon--Nefret in his hands for a day was a day too many.


	10. Chapter 10

**Letter Collection B:**

My dearest Lia, what have I gotten myself into this time? I will start from the beginning, best as I can, but it all seems such a jumble in my mind! I woke in a strange bed, uncertain of where I was or how I got there. The last thing I could remember was Lawrence kissing me, late at night, before he began his shift with the treasure. He went to touch the back of my ear, I remember those skilled fingers sliding so tenderly through my hair…

A woman was waiting for me to rise. She attended a bath for me, and bade me to wear a set of beautifully crafted if not a bit sheer silken robes. Perhaps similar to those worn in the harem, though a tad more modest. She took me down long marble arched hallways to a dining room, a table set with a feast fit for a queen! And none other was presiding over it than Lawrence himself, smiling like a cat who licked the cream. Nicked, more like it.

"Nefret, my love, you're finally awake," he said, as though I'd only been taking a casual little nap and he had _nothing_ to do with it. He gestured for me to sit next to him on the cushions, the seat of honor for a prized woman.

"Lawrence, what have you done? If Lawrence is indeed your real name."

Still pleased, Lawrence leaned back, popping a bite of delicious smelling food in his mouth, and bidding me to do the same. Because I did not think he meant me harm (and I was absolutely famished!) I did partake of a spiced tidbit of lamb. "Actually, it really is my name, and is one of the very few truths you know about me. Something we will happily remedy, if you wish."

By the look in his eyes, I knew he knew I wished.

"So, was Ramses right? Are you really a thief? I know you didn't just infiltrate our family for me?"

"Ramses did figure it out, did he? Clever bastard. Yes, I am a thief. A prince of thieves, if you will, your family has been acquainted with my father for some time now, actually. Particularly your Aunt Amelia."

My eyebrows show for the roof. "You are Sethos' _son_?"

"Indeed. And I will say that had I only made off with you, the heist would still have been my most valuable feat."

"But that's not the case, is it?"

"I'm afraid not."

"The treasure?"

"All gone."

"The professor will throttle you if he ever gets a hold of you," I stated matter of factly. Not as a threat, but it was indeed the truth of the matter.

"Perhaps. So would ramses. Neither of which amounted to enough of a deterrent to keep me from you, I'm afraid."

"Why--why like this?"

"Would you have agreed to run off with me, had I asked politely? I told you, you make me want to do the most ungentlemanly things."

"It's funny how similar this situation smacks to a tale a generation older than ours. Is this form of courtship genetic?"

Lawrence laughed, delighted by our banter. "This is in fact my father's house. I think our situation rang so similar to the tune of his own unrequited love story, that he agreed to aid me. No direct planning, mind you, that's all on me. He hasn't broken that little promise of his to Amelia."

"Sethos still loves Amelia." I wasn't exactly asking.

"Madly. Truly. Always, I think. He never loved my own mother that way."

"Do you resent that?"

Lawrence pursed his lips, and I knew he would give me an honest answer. "Perhaps in a small, irrational part of my brain. But then again, you didn't know my mother. I know why he chose Amelia over her, even if that love was doomed to forever go unreturned."

"It is a tragic story, isn't it? Something fit for the books. If aunt Amelia were married to a man less worthy than the Professor, I would even say it a story still worthy of some intervention."

Mischievously, Lawrence asked, "Are you so sure its still not? I would love to have her as a Mother in Law, you know."

And I scolded him, "Amelia would never succumb to your father."

"Perhaps, though the effects of prolonged exposure can be strangely moving."

"I believe you are referring to Stockholm syndrome. And this is your plan with me?"

"Not at all, my dear. I'm already at a great advantage."

"Are you now? And why is that?"

"Because, my sweet. You know and I know that you already like me. That's half the battle."

I feared he was right, Lia! I feared it , yet felt so compelled to play with fire at that moment. I almost think I partly wanted him at that moment, just because I could. We sat and bantered for quite a bit longer, a considerable amount of the night, eating and drinking and laughing together as no jailor and captive should. After a while he stood, offering me a hand to do the same. "Come for a walk with me?"

I could think of no reason to refuse. And he laced his fingers in mine, and we walked like that the whole way, and I could think of no reason to refuse that either. "So, you've never been to Calcutta, or seen Shanghai?" I asked, as we drew to a stop near a lotus filled pond.

"I have, actually." he corrected. "I've done quite a bit of traveling, of my own accord. Getting a feel for new markets, as it were."

"My, you _are_ being honest tonight."

"I told you I would."

And then he kissed the back of my neck, sweeping my hair aside like a curtain, and my knees nearly gave out from under me. But his arm around my waist wouldn't stand for that. The garden was so beautiful, and Lawrence such a --a surprising comfort at my back. "I really liked you you know." I divulged with a sigh.

"Is there any reason why you still cannot?" asked Lawrence, obviously amused by my moral dilemma. Perhaps something he rarely suffered from. His lips moved down to graze my neck, and my senses went all a jumble.

"It seems there are a great many, in recent light."

He chuckled (damn him!) and the sensation so close against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. "I may be a thief, my love, but it enables me to treat you as you well deserve, like a queen."

I fought not to melt, Lia! Valiantly, but I was afraid I was losing the battle. "I have my own fortune, you know." I reminded him, turning in his arms. "I don't need you, or any man, to take care of me."

Lawrence smiled a self deriding grin. "I know that, Nefret, though it doesn't make me want to care for you any less." And with no warning, he ducked down, crashing over me with a kiss that left very little of my mouth unknown to him. It fogged my senses, and took quite some time for me to break away.

"Do you always just take what you want?" I demanded, breathless.

"But Nefret," he said with that infuriating smirk, and not the slightest bit of shame. "As I recall, it was _you _who wanted me to do something ungentlemanly. And so now you have it, the grandest act of caddery!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, but in the face of his good humor it couldn't last for long. The truth was that he wasn't a cad. This almost would have been easier if he simply were. But it was far worse. It seemed Lawrence was deeply, irrevocably, desperately in love. With me.

I knew Ramses and Aunt Amelia and the Professor must have been worried sick about me, and there I was, Lia, thinking _maybe I can stay, just for a little while_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Letter Collection B, Continued: **

And so Lia, I persevered. Well, alright. Much of the time I enjoyed myself, quite a bit. A bit more than I should have, (wretch that I am!) I struggled to keep track of the time, how long I'd been held captive, just to try not to lose myself too much. Even though I did enjoy myself, I never forgot, Lia. I never wished the complication of my family would disappear. I knew they would be looking for me, all working in their own way, and Ramses especially. I will be honest, Lia, it was Ramses who I had the most faith in. it was he who I expected to turn up out of the shadows at any moment, and spirit me away.

Though my days were spent with Lawrence, my thoughts and my dreams were with Ramses. A month passed, and still no sign of rescue. And so it was while lounging in the sinful luxury of my room with Lawrence, that I devised a plan. "It's been a month now, since you first brought me here," I said. I leaned against his chest, and in this way he would stroke my hair, and spoil me with delicious kisses. But though I'd been tempted on several occasions, Lia, (so tempted!) I never allowed things to go farther than that.

"So it has. And a blissful month at that."

"My family must be worried sick, Lawrence."

He sighed, reluctantly admitting, "Perhaps."

"I wonder if you might allow me to send them a message? Just a note, to tell them I'm safe. You can read it, of course, to make sure I've not disclosed anything, though I don't know anything useful to disclose…"

"I'm sorry, my dear, but you know I cannot allow that." He said it in such a way, that I knew mere pleading couldn't budge him. It would take a persuasion of a different caliber.

Lia, I wanted to cry! I wanted to scream and throw a terrible fit, and demand of him how did he expect me to love him, when he kept me locked up in a cage, away from my family, the people I love most in the world! But I swallowed my rage, and bade my time.

It was the very next day that my opportunity arose, and I pounced upon it like a cat with a mouse. Lawrence took me to review some of the collection of items he and his father had accrued over the years. It was an amazing sight, that would make any museum curator absolutely green with envy!

Bracelets, pectorals, statues, vases, shawabti, scarabs, makeup pots, canoptic jars, furniture and musical instruments. It was the latter of which that caught my eye, a particular instrument of a make extremely similar to those we used in the ceremonies of the holy mountain, a sistrum. In fact, the resemblance was uncanny, and the construction even seemed sturdy, as though close to new. "Where did you get this?" I asked, voice laden with suspicion. Lawrence looked deep in my eyes, searching my mood. Finally he answered,

"You know."

"I don't."

"You do. Its alright, Nefret. I know where you came from. That it was no mission in the desert the Emmersons plucked you from."

My shock, needless to say, dropped my jaw in a very unladylike fashion. "How do you know?"

"My father put a few clues together, and infiltrated the Holy Mountain. Peacefully, as a trader. Rather ingeniously, really, posing as Petrie. Tarek still speaks highly of you, my dear. He told my father that the dance of offering to Hathor has never known more grace than your own rendition. Lawrence's long fingers caressed the sistrum, lovingly. "Will you perform it for me?" he asked quietly, knowing he asked for a very secret, very intimate thing.

"I--I couldn't possibly."

Suddenly, I realized I had something intensely _valuable _to bargain with.

"You don't remember?"

"I do," I admitted. "Every step, every word. But it seems something that belongs in that world, not this one, I've become so accustomed to hiding it."

"Please, Nefret?" I could see the curiosity in his eyes. The academic interest to see something so long dead to this world performed live. But there was something else in his eyes too. A different curiosity, that had far more to do with man and woman that Egyptological curiosity.

So I said, eyes down turned and innocent, "I can do this dance for you, on one condition." I picked up the sistrum, and flicked my wrist in such a practiced way, causing the little rattle to shiver with delight, once again in hands that knew her, how to entice her sing in the most holy of rhythms. The rhythms of the heart and the womb. A woman's secrets, whispered the rattle, soft but soothing as a breeze caressing branches.

"And what is that?"

By the hunger in his eyes, I had no doubt Lawrence would meet my demand. "Let me send that letter, and I will dance the best prayer to Hathor I have ever performed."

Lawrence took a deep breath and swallowed hard, thinking upon the request. Weighing the risks with his desire to watch me. Finally he answered, eyeing me carefully all the while, "Very well. You may have your letter."

With my sweetest smile, I kissed him upon the cheek, whispering in his ear. "Then _you_ shall have a dance."

As you can imagine, Lia, I was anxious to send off that letter! So I arranged our dance to take place as soon as possible, that very night, before dinner. I was nervous at first, (it had been such a very long time!) but I shook it off because it wasn't as though Lawrence knew what to expect anyway, so long as I made a good show of things. And I went through my closet and picked out a most suitable robe, a gauzy silken thing, not exactly right (for that would have been entirely sheer!) but it would suit my purposes.

I arranged the room as I wanted, and the candlelight lent a perfect effect. I had no shrine to Hathor, and decided to perform as though Lawrence himself were the object of my adoration. A blasphemy on the Mountain, to be sure, but what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, or me.

Lawrence came to sit on his cushioned place at the time I'd asked. It was funny, Lia, he almost seemed nervous! Certainly a bit solemn, I suppose he wanted to pay the prayer the respect it deserved. The prayer starts as a gentle thing. A line of song to rise above the reverent silence of a temple chamber, and the faintest rattle of the sistrum. But it grows with time, and I went into something of a trance performing it, singing the prayers and swaying in time, feet stamping and hips waving. I believe the origins of the belly dance must have started here, Lia, within the walls of the temples, as an act of exercise and entertainment and praise.

Lawrence watched this special act spellbound, lips parted and eyes glued to me. I will admit that I was very aware of those eyes upon me, taking in every move as one would pay attention to high opera or a fine work of art. I finished with a flourish, bowing low in an act of surprising flexibility even to me, for I thought I'd lost the rubber joints of my girlhood.

I kept my head bowed, flustered from the exertion and catching my breath, when a gentle finger hooked beneath my chin, drawing my eyes up to his. "You are breathtaking, my love," he said with the utmost sincerity, and I don't think he could have stopped himself for anything from kissing me at that moment.

We ate a fantastic meal, feeding each other bites of food, and kisses in between nearly every one. It was some small miracle that I actually managed to slip a lemon from the table into a pocket in my garment without Lawrence finding the telltale lump upon my person.


	12. Chapter 12

**Manuscript H: **

It was a day of raucous excitement for the Emersons, when a mysterious letter arrived. There was no postmark, a hand delivered missive, though the hand writing within undoubtedly belonged to Nefret Forth. The professor and Amelia poured over it for clues, and Ramses was not aware until later in the evening. He'd just returned from Cairo, following a lead that unfortunately did not prove fruitful.

It took much persuasion, but eventually Ramses convinced his mother to allow him to inspect it over night. It was as his parents slept that Ramses studied the letter for clues, a code, anything, but nothing came to his attention.

Only when he set the thing down to rub his tired eyes did an idea dawn on him, for one of his eyes stung considerably from some substance upon the paper. Ramses remembered giving Nefret a course in invisible inks. And so it was with great care that he applied heat to the back of the letter, being careful not to set the damn thing on fire.

And there he struck gold. Scratched out with an obviously makeshift pen was line after line in Nefret's hand, describing her surroundings in the best detail she could.

The particular character of the muezzin nearby, a definite proximity to some salty body of water, the climate. But most useful, Nefret felt certain the servants spoke not Arabic, but Turkish.

It wasn't much, but it was definitely a start. With relief and excitement flooding his veins, immediately Ramses began to make a list of preparations for departure in his head. He knew he would go alone. Lawrence undoubtedly was watching their family. If all three suddenly disappeared on a boat set for Turkey, he would undoubtedly have her moved, and they would be right back to square one.

Though excitement coursed through his system, Ramses slept the most he had in a month now with a hope, even if the barest thread, of finding his love.


	13. Chapter 13

**Letter Collection B: **

Lia, I awoke that fateful night with the feeling that someone was watching over me. I'd been feeling strangely all day, almost as though I were observing my life from afar, from somewhere above my body, looking around as though it was the last time I would be there. Lawrence noticed my distance straight away, he's come to know me so well, but I didn't know what I could possibly tell him.

That night I awoke with a start, for a hand strong as steel had been clamped over my mouth! And as my eyes flew open, who else did I see but Ramses himself, costumed in turban and dark clothing. "Thank god!" I exclaimed from behind his hand, even if I doubted the deity truly had much to do with it.

"Shh," Ramses urged me, and removed his hand. And of course, Lia, I flew out of that bed and clamped Ramses in a hearty embrace, I was so relieved to see him! And that was how Lawrence found us, clasped in each other's arms tightly as though lovers separated. It surely must have appeared so!

"Well, this is touching."

Lawrence's tone indicated that he found it quite the opposite.

I pulled away, taking a step forward to placate Lawrence, but Ramses immediately pulled me to stand behind him. "Game's up, Lawrence. It's time to let her go."

"I'm afraid you'll have to persuade me a bit more convincingly than that," said the Prince of Thieves, and gestured for the guards accompanying him, two great burly men who always trailed at his heels for such matters of security, to dispatch Ramses. "NO!" I protested. "All of you, stop this instant!"

But of course, being men on the scent of spilling blood, no one listened to reason.

It seemed no matter, for Ramses dispatched them both with a seemingly ridiculous ease, and confiscated a sword besides.

Lawrence was quick to pick up the other, and pointing it Ramses' way, said, "Perhaps this is most befitting, anyway. Its more romantic, two men locked in battle over the woman they love."

Of course this came as a surprise for me, not on Lawrence's part, but certainly Ramses! He did not refute it, only glared at Lawrence with those hard obsidian eyes. "We don't have to do this, this way," he insisted, always willing to give his opponent a chance to resolve their differences peacefully. But Lawrence's blood was up (that temper of his!) and he would have none of it.

"No, ramses, I think I would by far prefer this way. I've heard your name on her lips as she sleeps a few too many times to forgive you."

This came as a surprise to both of us, as it was undoubtedly meant to. Lawrence jumped on his moment of surprise, slashing viciously.

Ramses barely managed to twist away in time, resulting in a cut upon his torso. "Stop, both of you!" I commanded, but it went ignored. Aside from the horror of the situation, the dire circumstances, it was a well matched fight. Once en garde, Ramses fought every bit as skillfully as Lawrence, even eventually gaining the upper hand with a trip and knocking his sword away. But Lawrence too disarmed Ramses, and then they resorted to manual combat, rolling about on the floor. Lawrence landed a few painful blows, but Ramses eventually maneuvered Lawrence into a choke hold. As Lawrence clawed for air, his protests gradually faded, like the fading beats of a dying butterfly's wings against a clasped hand. But I knew Ramses would not kill his opponent, only render him unconscious.

As Lawrence went still, Ramses jumped to his feet, grabbing my hand. "Come on!" he hissed, dragging me down the hall. It was with some involuntary reluctance that I hesitated at first, for my captor looked so pitiful lying upon the floor, and I would never wish him harm. "He'll wake up soon," Ramses reminded me, and that was all it took to push my feet in gear.

Soundless and quick, we flew down the hall, evading guards in the shadows, until finally out a window, down a rope, and over the formidable walls of the villa, which really for all practical purposes might as well have been a palace. Ramses had mounts waiting, two magnificent Arabians that carried us away swiftly into the inky purple night.

And so it was then that I discovered we were not far from the outskirts of Constantinople, and once within the city Ramses returned the mounts to one of those "old friends of father's" and quickly had me within the voluminous folds of a full tob. All but my eyes hidden, I followed close on Ramses' heels, to a rather posh hotel in the heart of town. "More secure," he grumbled to my questioning sound, and proceeded to check us in. Only in the confines of the room, doors closed and drapes pulled, did I release a cry of relief, collapsing upon the plush bed.

"My God, Ramses, you did it!" I exclaimed, and he in a rather unguarded moment, fell down next to me. I rested my head upon his shoulder, and with his arm wrapped around me, I dozed for I don't know how long. It was only as I shifted my weight against him, and Ramses groaned, that I remembered he'd been cut.

"You're hurt," I exclaimed, immediately sitting up, "Let me see, it needs to be cleaned and bandaged."

"No, Nefret, I'm fine," he protested, as I began to peel away his shirt. But I persisted, even as he protested. "Nefret, please, stop." Finally, flustered, he sat up, clasping my small hands in his own. "Nefret, you have to stop touching me. I can't--" His words trailed of, and there was a sort of desperate look in his eyes. The look of a man drowning, a look I knew well, but never imagined I would see written across Ramses' features. Not for me.

"Tell me the truth," I demanded. "Why did you save me? Risk everything by coming alone?"

Ramses shook his head, that tangled mess of curls falling over his eyes. "Don't, Nefret. Don't ask these questions you don't want the answer to."

"I do want the answer," I argued. I pulled my hands from his to cup his handsome face in my grasp, turning his gaze towards me. "Tell me the truth," I begged, and knew something unexpectedly desperate had entered my tone.

Ramses looked at me, long and hard with those penetrating eyes, and for a moment at least I felt certain he could look past the shell of my body, straight to my heart, into my soul. And it was with a certain reluctance he broke, unable to keep his deep secrets any longer. "Very well, I'll tell you. I love you, Nefret, more than anything in this world. I have fought to beat it, because I know you can never see me as anything but your little brother, at best. I have traveled away to forget you--I have even taken other women to bed, but I know now its no good. I will love you for the rest of my life, I have since I was a boy, since I first ever laid eyes upon you. And now you know, and nothing will ever be the same between us again." With a shuddering sigh, he turned to kiss the inside of my wrist, and the longing of that forlorn sound nearly broke my heart right then. "So do your worst," he sighed. "Call me a lecher or a cad or a dirty--"

"Ramses," I interrupted. Those eyes that had drifted turned back to me. And I leaned in closer, brushing those Byronic curls away from his eyes. "You're right. Nothing _will_ ever be the same again." and I kissed him, Lia! With all my heart, I kissed him, and I knew I loved him. Like a man who had been expecting the guillotine but received a pardon, Ramses let out a sound of surprise at my returned affection.

It didn't take him long to recover from his surprise, and in no time he had pulled me onto his lap, and was kissing me furiously, within an inch of my life. "I wanted to kill him, for taking you away," he confessed between kisses. "I've thought of nothing but finding you, this past month and a half."

"I'm safe now, Ramses," I sighed against his skin. "Thanks to you."

"Did he…hurt you?" he looked down at me with such a earnest expression, such raw love in his eyes.

"Except hold me against my will, he was a perfect gentleman," I assured him. I was mostly telling the truth.

He sighed with relief, and kissed me again, so tenderly. And we went on like that for hours, kissing and laughing and dozing. It wasn't until the dawn just began to intrude past our curtains, that I sat up. "I feel filthy," I said, and from our high adventures, I certainly did. Ramses watched me, with a little disappointment, as I went into the bathroom to run a tub full of hot water. But his eyes alit again, with something crossed between disbelief and curiosity, when I appeared in the doorway again, wearing nothing but a robe.

"I for one am going to get into this glorious bathwater," I said over my shoulder. "You're welcome to join me." And as the robe fell to the ground, Ramses eyebrows shot to the ceiling.

"I've had dreams begin like this," he confessed quietly and I could hear his clothing being tossed to the ground as he walked forward.

"And how did they end?" I asked, already submerged in the water as he came to the door, bare to the waist.

And with the smile of rogue that sent my heart sailing, he answered, "You're about to find out."


	14. Chapter 14

**Manuscript H: **

It was with an uneasy feeling of apprehension deep in Ramses' gut, that he led Nefret out of the Istanbul hotel. They had a boat to catch, and once safely out to sea, he would let his nerves calm a bit. But until then, every face on the street seemed a potential threat, every shadow shielded the gleam of a waiting dagger. They hailed a cab to take them to the harbor, gloriously free of baggage to hold them back.

The carriage wound through the streets, the sound of the horses hooves clacking against the cobblestones thundering in their ears. Nefret sat back in the circle of Ramses' arms, his grip upon her hand the only indication of his nerves. "Almost there," he assured her, kissing her forehead through the cloth of her burka. It was the only time she would ever permit wearing such a thing.

But as the carriage jerked to a halt, it seemed Ramses spoke too soon. His hand was upon the hilt of his dagger in a moment, but as the door of the carriage was jerked open, it seemed a moment too late. He found himself peering down the barrel of a rifle. Lawrence was pulling no punches this time. Another opened the other door, and pulled Nefret from the cabin, kicking and screaming. The flunky attempted to silence her with a hand over her mouth, but she promptly bit him.

As Ramses stepped down from the cab, he found Nefret transferred to the arms of his rival. He stood with one arm around her waist, glare fixed upon Ramses. Another carriage waited in the alley, to spirit the thieves away.

"Games up again, I'm afraid," said Lawrence smugly. "I'll pay you the same courtesy as you did me, and only render you unconscious."

He signaled for the henchman to bash Ramses with the butt of his rifle, but a most unexpected development occurred. Almost like magic, Lawrence suddenly found a dagger held to his throat, by a very cold, and very steady Nefret. "Don't," she said.

Lawrence gave a signal for his men to stand down, and stared down into a pair of unforgiving cornflower blue eyes. "Lawrence, you have to let me go. I can't have a life with you. I can't be a pet kept within a gilded cage, I need my freedom. I need my work. And I need my family. I'm sorry. But this is how things must be.

The Prince of Thieves sighed, heavily enough to cause his throat to push against the daggers edge. As a trickle of blood ran down his throat, he found out the hard way how honed Ramses kept his spare blade. "So, this is your choice, then?" I really was lying to myself when I thought you loved me?"

A thousand truths coursed through Nefret's whirring brain. Scenarios in which they could have worked. Worlds their love could have lived in. Unfortunately, theirs was not one of them, and Ramses was the better man. The one she belonged with. "This is my choice, Lawrence. Ramses is my home."

Lawrence nodded, pushing down the dagger, sounding far braver than he felt, whilst his heart shredded to a million pieces within him. "Very well. Then I won't bother you again."

Nefret nodded, and standing on tip toe, kissed him sweetly. But it was a kiss of goodbye, for she backed away, clasping Ramses' hand in hers. And when Lawrence made no move to pursue them, they turned and ran down the alley. The sight of her robes fluttering around the corner would haunt him for the rest of his life, and yet standing there with three very bewildered henchmen, he suddenly knew this was the way it had to be. "We could have had them," grumbled Yussuf, lowering his rifle.

And it was in a melancholic tone that Lawrence answered, "Yes, but she's not mine to have. I fear she never was."


	15. Chapter 15

**Letter Collection B: **

It seemed that ages passed since our last encounter with the master criminal or his son. You can imagine the surprise and welcome I received upon our return, and even more surprise when Ramses and I announced our intention to marry. Ramses suggested that we wait until he had a suitable enough income to support us, but of course I dismissed it as ridiculous, for my fortune is more than enough to support us and a family for several lifetimes!

Ages seemed to pass since our adventure with the master criminal's son. It was the day before the wedding, when a mysterious gift appeared on my bureau. A package wrapped in silk, and an accompanying envelope resting against it. I admit, Lia, it was with a trembling hand that I opened it, for the strangest premonition came over me! And the note read:

"My sweetest Nefret, allow me to extend my congratulations for your impending nuptials. I would be a liar to pretend I do not wish it were I in the groom's place, but a thief must know when he has been bested by the better man. This was saved with the intention of serving as a wedding gift, and so it is, in an ending much more different than I'd imagined. I love you with all my heart, and always will, and wish you the utmost happiness with your chosen one.

Forever yours, Lawrence."

Resting the note upon the bureau, I unwrapped the bundle, to find the inlaid bracelet I'd loved so dearly from the princess' cache. It was with a guilty awe that I clasped it upon my arm, and admired its ancient gleam, its skilled craftsmanship in the candle light. I knew I couldn't keep it, but to have saved at least one piece of the princess' treasure seemed a triumph of the day.

The letter itself I folded carefully, and placed in a cache of my private things. There are some things a woman must keep, that a husband needn't ever lay eyes on. I decided I would wait until after the wedding to reveal the bracelet, and return it to the collection of the Cairo museum, where it regrettably belonged. Where people would ogle it from behind a glass casing, and never truly know the stories of the people who had touched it, and whose lives it had touched.


End file.
